Chapter 9: Will You Be My Last Disciple?

“Your foundation is quite decent.”

Master Zhong Yunlong patted Fang Xinghe’s shoulder and arm with a calm tone. “You want to become a martial arts star?”

“Yes.”

Fang Xinghe simply nodded, speaking little but showing a respectful and obedient demeanor.

“Hmm, the conditions are indeed good...”

Master Zhong stroked his beard, scrutinizing Fang Xinghe carefully. His gaze lingered unusually long on the young man’s still tender but handsome face before he finally nodded lightly. “Then work hard at your training.”

Fang Xinghe cupped his fists respectfully and replied, “Yes, Master!”

“You called me the wrong title. The relationship between master and disciple is important. You can call me ‘Daozhang’ or ‘Director.’”

Master Zhong waved his hand, though the corner of his mouth twitched, barely restrained.

“Understood, Director!”

When it was Yu Xiaoduo’s turn, Master Zhong only said simply, “Good bone structure. Give it a try.”

After Master Zhong left, Yu Xiaoduo excitedly raised his fist, “Brother, the Director praised my bone structure!”

Fang Xinghe couldn’t help but smile, finding his innocence amusing.

He was only hearing the praise, oblivious to the difference in attitude.

Still, Fang Xinghe wouldn’t discourage his junior brother and cheerfully said, “Let’s go pay the fees; then we’ll work hard together.”

After paying, settling in, and familiarizing themselves with the environment, though the short-term martial arts class was open to anyone who paid, the two boys received the best treatment.

They stayed in the least crowded rooms, ate plentifully with meat served, and senior brothers carefully guided them with attention and responsibility.

Thus, Fang Xinghe began a highly disciplined life on Wudang Mountain.

Rise at six in the morning for morning exercises.

“Respect nature, follow the heavens and earth, love the homeland, honor parents, respect teachers, discipline oneself strictly, treat others kindly. The highest virtue is like water—beneficial without contention; bestowing favors without seeking return, remembering kindness for a thousand years!”

After reciting the morning precepts, Senior Brother Chen Shihang led everyone in standing meditation.

Seeing famous figures from the past manifest before him was a strange sensation, yet Fang Xinghe did not seek to ingratiate himself but focused solely on training.

Standing meditation is the foundation of all else.

Stand correctly and endure, and the body’s attributes will naturally improve, saving a great deal of star energy.

After morning exercises, they ate in the dining hall.

Then the youths studied classics such as Zhang Sanfeng’s “Treatise on the Great Way,” “Direct Teachings on Profound Mysteries,” “Essence of the Mysterious,” and the “Tao Te Ching.”

Following this, they practiced individually according to their progress and training focus.

Since weight and strength training were off-limits for youths, Fang Xinghe only practiced routines, learning Wudang Tai Chi’s thirteen postures, twelve small frames of forms, basic swordsmanship, and the thirty-six-step kick technique.

Quality over quantity in martial arts—clarity of purpose was essential.

If the goal was to perform well, then mastering basics—fist, leg, and sword—was sufficient.

After lunch came rest and free time.

Fang Xinghe was in a developmental phase with poor endurance, so he needed a short nap before rising to read.

He was currently self-studying ninth-grade material, learning rapidly and efficiently on the mountain, even finding time to contemplate his long novel.

After dinner, senior brothers practiced individually. The class members could pursue interests and study knowledge areas they favored.

The Sanfeng Sect had abundant talent and taught widely practical subjects: health preservation, alchemy, traditional Chinese medicine, ancient Taoist literature, and mental cultivation.

Of course, what intrigued Yu Xiaoduo most was the authentic Taoist art of the bedchamber.

But Fang Ge had no curiosity about that.

Precisely because his mind was calm, he learned fastest and most thoroughly.

When Master Zhong had leisure and interest, he would chat with everyone in the side hall scented with incense, discussing past and present.

Fang Xinghe loved the tales of truth and fiction from the martial world that Master Zhong told—mostly mysterious but strangely romantic.

In this fulfilling life, time seemed to accelerate.

Before long, it was New Year’s Eve.

This year, New Year’s Eve fell on February 15. The day before, everyone slept early, waking to start lively preparations for the celebration.

The short-term class students had all returned home, leaving only Fang Xinghe, Yu Xiaoduo, Zhang Xuan, Tang Chao, Wang Charlie, and some senior brothers without families on the mountain.

After offering sacrifices to the patriarch and Taoist deities, Master Zhong summoned Fang Xinghe alone to his room.

“After training these days, how do you feel?”

Fang Xinghe thought for a moment and surprisingly replied, “My body and mind are clear and fulfilled.”

“Good.”

Master Zhong was visibly pleased, showing no concealment.

“Xinghe, you are diligent, steady, intelligent, and respectful—a fine seedling for cultivation. Are you willing to formally take me as your master?”

Over the past month, neither Fang Xinghe nor the master and senior brothers had been idle. They had observed him closely.

Master Zhong had never liked any child so much; the more he looked, the more pleasing Fang Xinghe seemed. As an orphan, the master even entertained the thought of passing the entire Sanfeng Sect to him.

However, Fang Xinghe thought briefly and solemnly shook his head. “I’m unwilling.”

Master Zhong’s hand trembled, and he plucked out several beard hairs.

“Why?”

Fang Xinghe lifted his head and earnestly explained, “Master Zhong, I am not the type to seek harmony for myself and others. I am determined to stir up storms, inevitably drawn into the arena of fame and fortune, where blessings and misfortunes intertwine, and reputations are mixed. I truly do not wish to burden the Taoist realm’s tranquility or the Sanfeng Patriarch’s name.”

His words were candid and tactful.

Fang Xinghe didn’t want to be a modest and simple kung fu star like Li Lianjie. He dared to stir up scandals Li wouldn’t touch, speak words Li wouldn’t say, and oppose people and matters Li wouldn’t challenge.

In a word: planting a golden lotus in the fire, my Tao follows the wild!

Master Zhong was silent for a long time, then sighed. “I knew you weren’t one to settle down, but I didn’t expect your heart to be this wild...

A young man like you is truly rare in my life.

Very well, the matter of apprenticeship is set aside for now. After the new year, I will teach you some secret techniques that will be useful.”

Fang Xinghe bowed respectfully. “Thank you, Master Zhong. I will forever remember your sincere care.”

“Go now, foolish child.”

The matter passed quietly, unnoticed by others.

On New Year’s Eve, after eating dumplings and watching the gala on television, everyone gathered around the table chatting.

Amid the talk, Master Zhong couldn’t help but advise Fang Xinghe again.

“Your bone structure isn’t outstanding, but once you develop, your figure should be good. Your appearance is quite striking, very suitable for performing. So don’t slack off—persist in training and polish your basics to the top.”

Yu Xiaoduo couldn’t help but ask, “Director, what exactly is bone structure?”

Master Zhong took a sip of tea and replied slowly, “In modern scientific terms, it’s the combination of skeletal shape, bone density, muscle density, muscle mass—your overall physique.

Long limbs mean larger steps in ancient times and longer attack range;

Broad shoulders and sturdy bones mean you can carry more meat;

Higher muscle density means greater strength;

Short neck, thick fingers, round waist—each has its own advantage.

Ancient true fighters rarely looked handsome; practicality and aesthetics seldom coincide. So the fierce generals recorded in history mostly appeared robust and imposing.”

Yu Xiaoduo compared himself point by point and suddenly grew excited. “Then I’ll definitely be very strong in the future!”

Senior Brother Chen chuckled quietly, “That’s why the Master praised your bone structure.”

Fang Xinghe pondered carefully and asked, “Then how does one look good?”

“That involves many different qualities.”

Master Zhong’s eyes were fixed on Fang Xinghe as he patiently explained.

“First, a good physique is the highest category.

Next, it’s rhythm.

I’ve watched generations of top domestic martial artists. In real combat, Li Lianjie couldn’t crack the top twenty, but when it comes to looking good, he’s at least top three.

His physique isn’t remarkable—height’s lacking, short arms, average shape.

So why does he look so good?”

“It’s the rhythm!” Yu Xiaoduo excitedly chimed in.

“Yes, the sense of rhythm. So even with the same moves, he always brings out a memorable spirit.”

Master Zhong nodded and continued more deeply.

“And where does rhythm come from?

Personally, I think it’s coordination.

Coordination is the primary factor in whether movements are beautiful, far surpassing others.

Everyone knows we emphasize explosive power in martial arts. You can’t just train raw strength. So how does supreme explosive power come about?

It’s not that if you’re stronger or faster, your explosive power is greater—it’s that you’re coordinated enough to perfectly combine strength and speed. Then it becomes powerful.

When the explosion hits, a slow movement suddenly snaps out with blurring speed, yet when the power is fully exerted, the hand remains steady, unmoving, no tremor—that’s a grandmaster.

We say ‘stillness and immovability, then one strike.’ That one strike is the integration of explosive power, control, and balance—coordinated unity is fundamental.

I actually learned this concept abroad during exchanges. It solved many years of confusion for me. I’m telling you now because I want you to value it.

If you want to be a martial arts star, you must develop your coordination.”

“But it’s not easy to train, and talent is more important. Keep that in mind.”

“Thank you, Master Zhong. I understand.” Fang Xinghe respectfully thanked him and reasoned further, “Basketball legend Michael Jordan seems the perfect example of extraordinary coordination.”

The dojo had a television and could receive many programs. Once Fang Xinghe mentioned it, everyone suddenly understood.

“Yes, yes! His hang time is incredible, and his landings are so stable—definitely a sign of coordination talent.”

“Not just that. Look at his first explosive step—sudden and hidden. Short bursts of power with great force. He must be a master of close-range power.”

“Black athletes have amazing talent—tall, long limbs, yet so coordinated. Us white Americans think it’s crazy.”

“If Shaquille O’Neal wore heavy armor and wielded two great hammers, he might even take on Lü Bu.”

“That’s impossible. At 2.16 meters with armor, there wouldn’t be a horse strong enough to carry him running!”

“True, that would be infantry fighting cavalry—charging and crushing with a single spear.”

Hearing the usually reserved senior brothers suddenly discussing how NBA stars would fare in martial arts, with a genuine white American in the mix, gave Fang Xinghe a strangely magical sense of contrast.

He felt like laughing but also found the scene vivid and full of life.

A lively, interesting group of people...

He eagerly joined the discussion, offering a well-known later-era perspective: “It’s not that foreigners are stronger, but that African Americans in the U.S. are especially strong. In that unique historical environment, only the strong survived, creating successive generations of top genes combined, making them prone to producing extraordinary talent.”

“Unbelievable!” Senior Brother Charlie exclaimed. “Fang, your viewpoint is scary but seems accurate!”

It had to be true.

In a few more years, China’s post-2010 and post-2020 generations would rank among the world’s best in overall quality—physically weaker than African Americans but far more intelligent; slightly shorter than Northern Europeans but superior in all other respects.

Endurance, allergy resistance, longevity, genetic health, even combat aptitude—all were strongest in China’s Generation Z.

Except for soccer, what couldn’t they excel at?

If you browse foreign websites, you’ll find constant boasting about Chinese people.

That’s why after rebirth, Fang Xinghe felt so out of place in the entertainment world—everything seemed displeasing. The pride of Generation Z clashed sharply with the current era.

Master Zhong did not interfere with the casual talk but continued to give Fang Xinghe earnest advice.

“It seems you truly understand. From now on, work more in this direction. Don’t just grind through routines. While you’re still developing, do special training.”

“Yes, I will remember.”

Fang Xinghe was greatly inspired and delighted.

Early on, star energy would be tight, so points must be allocated purposefully. Now that he understood the importance ranking of attributes, he could select accordingly.

As an actor, voice, stage presence, and movement all require coordination, so it must be ranked second.

Once coordination reaches a high enough level, any training will become more effective.

As for the most important attribute...

It’s endurance.

Fang Xinghe needed to extend his effective learning and training time and quickly shore up his endurance weakness for the best cost performance.

Unfortunately, he still had to keep accumulating star energy.

As for that competition... who knew how it was going...